


Falling Together Like A Murderous Jigsaw

by AngelWithAStory



Series: Immortality Comes At a Price and We Pay For It With Crime [9]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Drabbles, Fake AH Crew, Female Jack, Immortal Fake AH Crew, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Multi, Non Canonical Immortal, Non-Graphic Violence, Pre-Relationship, Time Skips, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-15 02:45:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4590105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelWithAStory/pseuds/AngelWithAStory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Revamped version of Oh How The Mighty Fall</p>
<p>  <i>The last thing he remembered was sitting somewhere, a bottle in his hand that was more air than liquid. He remembered drinking like it was his only instinct. He remembered seeing someone in the alley with him. He assumed it was someone who wanted to kill him. There were enough of them.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. When Geoff Met Jack

**Author's Note:**

> So since my original plans for Oh How The Mighty Fall went to hell, I decided to just do some minor changes to the first part and re-upload it

Geoff didn’t know where he was.

The last thing he remembered was sitting somewhere, a bottle in his hand that was more air than liquid. He remembered drinking like it was his only instinct. He remembered seeing someone in the alley with him. He assumed it was someone who wanted to kill him. There were enough of them.

The street lamp silhouetted the figure, casting a halo over them. Geoff remembered thinking maybe he would finally see heaven, after hundred of years. Maybe he would stop being punished.

When we did wake up, he didn’t recognise the room he was in. It was clean, but obviously lived in. There was a blanket covering him with a strange embroidery on it, and a full cup of water next to him. He gulped it down, sitting up and trying to orientate himself. There didn’t seem to be anyone else in the room (apartment? House?) so Geoff stood up. He saw his shoes next to the sofa he was laid on and slipped his feet into them.

“I found you.” A voice rang out, making Geoff whip around. He almost reached for a gun he didn’t carry anymore, but he relaxed when he saw who was speaking.

“What?” 

“I found you in that alley. Drunk.” The person said, stepping into the light of the window. It was a woman, wearing a dress that would have looked just a bit behind the times to anyone who kept their mind in the present. The dress itself wouldn’t have aroused too much suspicion, but the fact it was a tad too large for her frame, and the bodice didn’t fit would have to anyone who looked at her closely enough.

“So why didn’t you leave me?” Geoff asked, his voice cracking. The woman looked at him gently.  

“There’s a bathroom just down the hallway if you want to freshen up.” She said, avoiding the question.

“Don’t change the subject, why did you help me?” Geoff said. The woman looked him in the eye and he faltered. The look in her eye was cold and impressive. But she relented and gestured to the sofa. Geoff sat back down and watched as she moved to sit beside him.

“I helped you, because I know what you are.” The woman said hesitantly, fiddling with her skirt.

“What am I?” Geoff asked gently.

“You’re out of your time.” The woman said quietly, as if afraid someone would overhear. “You can’t die. At least not permanently.”

Geoff stilled. That had to be a joke.

“Yeah? How would you know?” He asked, hardening his voice a bit.

“Because I am too.” She said.

“Bullshit.” Geoff said automatically. She was fucking with him. He thought he was the only one. He was the forsaken one. Cursed to live forever and never meet his loved ones again. She could be like him.

“Yeah?” The woman said, standing up and going over to a desk in the corner. She pulled over a drawer and rifled through, pulling out a small revolver and pressing it into Geoff’s hand. “Try it.”

“What?” Geoff said, hating the way his hand curled around the gun instinctively.

“Don’t believe me? I’ll prove it. Shoot me.” The woman challenged, taking a step back. Geoff raised the gun and levelled it, his body automatically positioning itself for him to shoot. The woman didn’t flinch.

“How did you know?” Geoff asked, not lowering the gun. “That you were like me?”

“Because your heart stopped last night in the alley. I watched you die and then your heart started again and you were breathing but you didn’t wake up.” The woman said.

“How did you know _you_  were like me?” Geoff repeated. “How did you die?”

“I was beaten to death. I bled out and then I woke up again, as if nothing had happened.” She said, her voice hard.

“Who beat you? You’re husband?” Geoff asked.

“My neighbours.” The woman said stiffly. “I’ve never had a husband.”

“A lovely lady like you never found a husband?” Geoff said, a note of disbelief in his voice. It was only then did he lower the gun. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Jack.” She said, extending her hand.

“Geoffrey.” Geoff said, hesitantly shaking her hand. It felt strange, like admitting an alliance. He knew he should have been more suspicious, more wary, but there was something in his gut telling him that Jack was being truthful. That he’d found someone he could trust.

 


	2. How Geoff and Jack Met Gavin

Gavin had travelled a lot.

And he’d died _many_  times doing so.

Either by being murdered by bandits and highwaymen when travelling on land, or by some disease when travelling oversea. And after the war, Gavin felt that he could start exploring again. The First World War had really thrown a wrench into his plans since he technically didn’t exist anymore in Britain and didn’t want to be thrown into a war he had no interest in. After being around for centuries, all the wars got a bit repetitive.

He landed in New York at first, and travelled from there, taking money with odd jobs when he could. Over the first few years, he managed to pick up ways to copy the local accent to draw less attention to himself. People seemed to forget about him once he’d left the city.

It took a few years and a few more deaths for Gavin to reach the other side of the continent. He liked the city and scraped together enough for a small apartment. He worked small jobs, occasionally dipping his toe in the American crime network.

The first time he had ever shot someone dead, he vomited all over his shoes and couldn’t stop shaking, horrified at his own actions.

The second time he had ever shot someone dead, he felt sick to his stomach but managed to hold himself together long enough to grab the gold and leave.

The third time he felt guilty.

By the time he entered America, he had become numb to the feeling. He even started to enjoy the rush of a good crime.

Gavin thought a low profile and a fake name would keep him under any radar, but he knew he was wrong when someone knocked on his door sometime in 1919 and he opened it to see a man and a woman.  

“Can we come in?” The woman said. “My name’s Jack and this is Geoff.”

“Alright, I guess.” Gavin said, stepping aside and letting them in.  They took a seat on the chairs around a table Gavin had in the front room.

“We’re here to offer you a job.” Geoff said professionally. “I saw you when you were robbing someone and I like your style.”

“Alright…” Gavin said, sinking into the chair opposite them. “What’s the job?” He asked.

“A position in a crew.” Jack said gently. “Doing what you’re doing now, but on a larger scale, and we each take a portion of what we steal.”

“Who would we steal from?” Gavin asked.

“That depends. I have friends that can give us some jobs, or we can plan our own. Total freedom of choice.” Geoff said.

“Alright then.” Gavin said, shrugging. “What’s there to lose?” 


	3. How Geoff, Jack and Gavin Met Michael And Lindsay

Michael sat at the bar, his hand curled around his drink. It had been ten years and he still didn’t really know how to process the fact that he should have been buried somewhere in Somme with his name printed on a memorial somewhere.

The speakeasy was bustling around him with musicians playing Jazz and cigarette smoke swirled around the ceiling. People were dancing, too drunk to really care. Women were dancing with the men, and dancing each other. He looked out over the people and his eyes landed on two red-headed women dancing. His gaze was drawn to one woman in particular.

Her red hair was longer than the fashion, but decorate with a headband and a single feather. Her dress was cut just a bit above the knee and low enough to be called scandalous by parents.

The other woman saw Michael watching them and whispered something in her friend’s eye. The other woman gave her a gentle push in his direction and Michael quickly turned back to the bar, focusing on his drink. He saw someone sit on a chair next to him and looked up at her.

“Hi.” She said, smiling at him. “I’m Lindsay.”

“Michael.” Michael said, turning his body to her slightly. Lindsay looked at his drink for a second.

“Are you on a toot?” Lindsay asked. It took Michael a few seconds to decipher what she’d said.

“No, I just wanted a drink.” Michael admitted. Lindsay looked at him critically for a few seconds before she took his hand.

“Come on, let’s blouse.” Lindsay said. Michael gulped down the last of his drink and followed. He had a good feeling in the pit of his stomach.

 

Fifteen years later, a few months before Pearl Harbour was bombed and the USA joined the war, years after Lindsay had died and come back while Michael was away trying to find work and they realised they would be okay after all, the two of them were walking down a back street to some underground club they’d heard about. What they wanted to do was try and get some better guns than the ones they had. Better guns meant they could be a bit braver than ransacking abandoned houses and robbing people at gunpoint.

The room was packed with bodies all moving to try and get a better look. Lindsay led Michael through, weaving in and out of the people. They were looking for the man whose name seemed to be everywhere. Word had gotten to them that he would help.

The fight going on seemed to be going well for the crowd favourite as the noise level spiked. Neither of them turned their head to even look.

There was a man sat on a raised platform, counting bills and putting them into a locked box.

“Betting’s closed.” The man said. He didn’t sound American and he didn’t look at them as they walked up.

“We aren’t here for that.” Michael said.

“Then what can I do for you?” The man asked, finally looking at them.

“We’re looking for Ramsey.” Lindsay said. “We heard he could help us.”

The man raised an eyebrow and looked at the mass of people still engrossed in the fight.

“This is the last fight of the night.” The man said, leaning down towards them. “Wait for it to finish and I’ll let you meet Ramsey. There’s no guarantee that he’ll help you though.”

They waited for the fight to finish and for everyone to disperse. The winner of the fight walked off to a back room. They had hair that was tied back and a slight build that made it seem like they should have been the one on the floor instead of their opponent.

The foreign man got up when the fighter left and took the locked box with him. A while later, the foreign man came back accompanied by two more people: one man and one woman. The man was wearing a suit with the jacket unbuttoned and his hair unkempt, while the woman had her hair tied back in a plait and loose trousers and button up shirt with the sleeves rolled all the way up and folded so it exposed her stomach. She had a wet towel pressed to her midriff, around a bruise that seemed to be forming. Her hands were wrapped in bandages that had spots of blood around the knuckles.

“Heard you were looking for me.” The man in the suit said.

“Ramsey, I assume.” Lindsay said.

“One and only.” Ramsey said. “Who do I have the pleasure of meeting?”

“He’s Michael and I’m Lindsay.” Lindsay introduced.

“We’re looking for some guns.” Michael said.

“Do you have the cash?” Ramsey asked, tucking his hands in his pockets.

“If you have the guns, we have the cash.” Lindsay said confidently. Ramsey leaned to the side and had a whispered conversation with the woman.

“What do you need them for?” The foreign man asked curiously.

“That’s none of your fucking business.” Michael replied automatically.

“No need to be pissy about it.” The foreign man said.

“We’ve got your guns.” Ramsey said. “But, with this war around the corner, we could use a bit of manpower.”

“What do you mean?” Lindsay said.

“I mean we’re thinking of starting a crew and we’ve heard about you.” Ramsey said. “Nice work, by the way, with your last job. It’s not easy to steal from a local senator.”

“We just want the guns.” Lindsay said.

“Are you sure?” Ramsey said. “Being in a crew with us would mean ultimate protection and a cut of the rewards. We’ll give you a day to talk it over. If you’re still interested come back tomorrow after Jack’s fight and we’ll make an arrangement.”  He nodded to the woman stood beside him who looked up and smiled.

“You let a woman fight?” Lindsay asked.

“Jack’s the reigning champion.” Ramsey said, watching their reaction. Jack busied herself with the wet towel, pretending that she wasn’t paying attention.

“I’ll show you the guns.” The foreign man said, walking to the back room. After a shared look they followed him. Michael paused beside Jack.

“You’re a good fighter.” He said while Lindsay nodded. They carried on walking, following the foreign man. Jack let out the breath she had been holding.

Lindsay and Michael left that club with two new guns.

Only Michael came back the next night.

Lindsay wouldn’t join part-time for a few more decades, and only full time when she saw what rewards the Crew were reaping. She was happy when she finally joined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes about Lindsay's slang:  
> on a toot = On a bender  
> Let’s blouse = let’s go


	4. How Jack Met Ray (And How He Joined)

The 80’s were a fun time for a lot of people, but not Ray. Especially after a rival gang managed to slaughter everyone in his small street gang, including Ray.

Except Ray was the only one who woke up, a gun still in his hand and a knife beside him on the ground.

It was day, but he couldn’t have been able to tell what time of day it was, and he didn’t care. Ray shakily pushed himself to his feet, grasping the knife in his free hand hard enough that his knuckles went white. He walked over to the door and pushed it opened, blinking at the bright light.

He had a plan and he needed his revenge.

 

Months later, Ray was still shaken, but he forced himself to get over it. His sniper rifle was sat against his back heavily and he dropped down from his rooftop perch to where his motorcycle was. He liked taking jobs from whatever gang could afford him. It meant he didn’t get attached to people who would only die on him.

He still didn’t know what it was that made him special enough to be able to come back. 

If Ray wasn’t as well trained, he would have missed the person standing in the alley when he dropped down. But he was better than that and lifted his rifle with a frightening speed, aiming at the person’s head. At the same, the person had pulled out a handgun and aimed at Ray.

Ray waited to see if they would talk. The person moved their thumb and there was a small click, followed by the magazine clip of their gun falling to the ground. The person lowered their arm, tucking the gun back into the waistband of their… Floral skirt?

Ray lowered the rifle slowly, not putting it away. The person stepped forwards until he could see them fully. _They_  turned out to be a woman wearing a baggy one-shouldered shirt, the floral skirt and a small purse that was connected to a chain slung over her shoulder.

“What do you want?” Ray asked.

“I just wanted to meet you, Brownman.” The woman said. “See how you worked.”

“I take it you like what you see?” Ray said, a tad cockily. The woman laughed, and it sounded genuine.

“You’re a bit young for me.” She said. “But you’ve got a lot of skill. Have you heard of the Fake AH Crew?”

“I heard of them.” Ray admitted. They were starting to make a name for themselves in the city and they were starting to grab the media’s attention. “You want me to help you take them out?” Most people who hired him were people with a grudge and too much cash in their pockets.

“No, we’re offering you a place.” The woman said. “Total job security, guaranteed money and protection.”

“No thanks, I’m not big on joining gangs.” Ray said, swinging his rifle onto his back and going to the motorcycle between them. “Too many people die.”

“What if this gang was unkillable?” The woman said.

“Listen, lady, in this city, no one’s unkillable.” Ray said dismissively, swinging one leg over the motorcycle.

“You are.” She said, making Ray freeze. “And so are the rest of us.”

“Yeah, right.” Ray said, but there was an edge to his voice that showed he wasn’t as skeptical.

“How do you think we’ve gotten this far?” The woman said. She dug around in her purse for a few seconds and pulled out a small card. It was solid black and had the Crew’s symbol printed on it. On the reverse of the car was an address. “My name’s Jack. If you change your mind, go to this address. We could really use someone like you with us, Brownman.”

“Sure.” Ray said, looking at the card. “And you’re not bullshitting me? All of you are for real?” He asked, looking at Jack.

“All of us.”  Jack promised.

“Fuck it,” Ray said, pocketing the card. “You want a ride?” He asked. Jack smiled at him.

“So you’re in?” She asked.

“Yeah I’m in.” Ray said. Jack’s smile was warm and almost maternal. She climbed on the back of the bike, keeping a few inches of space between them and Ray took off to the address on the card.

 


	5. How Geoff and Gavin Met Ryan (And How The Crew Was Complete)

Ryan was the easiest to recruit to the Crew.

It was the mid 90’s and Geoff and Gavin were sat on the hood of Geoff’s car on some hill in the middle of nowhere.

“Are we sure we want someone like in the Crew?” Gavin asked.

“Just because you’re scared of him.” Geoff said. “Look, you know what we’ve heard about the guy. Someone put a bullet in his head and he got up ten minutes later.”

“I know, Geoff but-” Gavin didn’t get to finish his sentence as a car drove up to them, the engine cutting out. A dark figure got out the car. They had a leather jacket on with two white stripes on each arm and a black skull mask covering their features.

“Vagabond.” Geoff said, standing up. “You considered my offer.”

“I’m in.” The Vagabond said simply. His eyes flickered to Gavin and he fixed the Brit with an impressive stare.

“Great, be by my apartment at ten tomorrow morning and I’ll introduce you to the rest of the Crew.” Geoff said. The Vagabond nodded and went back to his car.

“Tell your friend to change his jeans.” Were the Vagabond’s parting words before he turned the engine on and drove away.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [ private-doughnut ](private-doughnut.tumblr.com) on tumblr if you want to say hi


End file.
